A Shore for Two (and Other Assorted Tales)
by Knickerweasels
Summary: An ongoing collection of short stories, ficlets, drabbles and poetry focusing on the relationship between Atton Rand and Aquila Ornil (LSF Exile).
1. A Shore for Two

Hello! This will be an ongoing collection of my short stories, ficlets and drabbles that focus on Atton Rand and Aquila Ornil (my LSF Exile.) Most will fall between 100 and 400 words and will not run in any particular order, rather they are just quick peeks into the tiny moments shared between the two of them. So, without further ado, let's get writing!

* * *

**A Shore for Two**

Short and strong. Scars like winding roads, dimpled skin their mountains, silvered stretch marks their rivers. Her accent was polished, but the words that spilled out we're befitting of the gruffest of space-port workers, not the impish smile that formed them.

Her words.

Her weapons.

A shield better than any Echani offering.

She was not Atton's typical fascination, the twi'lek dancer or lithe assassin; one night for the right exchange of credits, hollow words and empty touches. No, this was something more. She was his sanity, his best friend, the one to pull him back to the surface when he drowned in his demons. A saving smile and sparkling eyes that met his own and led him to shore.

A shore for two, or so he hoped.


	2. Summer Rain

Another quick songfic, well more of a songpoem, written to English Summer Rain - Placebo. Written from Aquila's point-of-view.

* * *

**Summer Rain  
**

And here we are again, blasters in hand.

_You watch my back, I'll watch yours._

The crash of sabers against metal, against flesh.

The high-pitched wails of blaster bolts, yours, mine, others unknown.

The melody of the battlefield. A melody we know all too well.

But what's there to expect, in a galaxy like ours? For every moment of peace we're given there's another like this, one of fraught emotion and fights for life.

The others pushed forward forever ago, mingled in with the blur, the belly of the fight.

But you hung back, stayed by my side.

Your blaster bolts couldn't so much as scratch our targets from this distance.

In the past I'd have reprimanded you for it,

_Wakamancha, nudd cha!_

But now it's welcome company.

More than welcome.

No time for talk, just knowing glances between shots.

I shoot to kill, you shoot to look busy.

Comfort in a glance, the heat of your eyes.

There's movement to the left.

They've pushed forward.

No more time to linger at the edge of the fray.

One last glance, you throw up a stealth field.

Enemies fall to the ghost on the field.

I can't see you, but I can feel you.

That spark in you.

Please don't let it fade.

You're out of sight.

I ready my blaster.

_Chess ko, muni_.

_You watch my back, I'll watch yours._

* * *

**_Huttese: _**

_Wakamancha, nudd cha!_ - Coward, move forward!/forward march!

_Chess ko, muni_ – Be safe, lover


	3. Post Blue

Written as part of a challenge that asks you to shuffle your playlist and write a ficlet to each of your songs but only for the duration they each run. I got _Placebo - Post Blue_ and things got a little bit naughty.

* * *

**Post Blue**

A trail of spice and spilled juma snaked it's way around the room, a landscape of escapism, a testament to broken souls and destinies never asked for. The winding path of stray, glittering powder found itself ended abruptly by the brush of tangled feet and bare limbs, swept up by curled toes and set loose across the room once again by labored breaths and frenetic utterances.

A battle-worn hand run it's course through matted brown hair, knotting it's fingers into stray locks and pulling it's owner closer. That crooked smile Aquila'd so longed to see flashed briefly above her before promptly meeting her own in a fit of heady emotion and, with lips and limbs intertwined, a sudden lurch of bodies saw the trail of spice and juma carve new paths against bare flesh.


	4. Liquid Lunch

A "quick" songfic that went too far. Written to Caro Emerald - Liquid Lunch.

Challenge songfics don't really count when you loop the song to get another hundred words in, do they? ;-)

* * *

**Liquid Lunch**

The cantina had long since closed and hours had passed since it's peeved landlord had finally succeeded in his aim of removing the establishment's last remaining patron. An early attempt to coax Aquila out with words and pleasantries had very quickly escalated into the haggard man prising juma from a determined hand and dragging the blonde out of the door.

Or rather, that had been his initial plan..

The juma was removed with little issue, a slight twist here and a pull there saw the lipstick-covered glass find itself a new home on a high counter. It's owner, however, posed a far greater challenge. She may have been small, but she was also drunk. Very drunk. The large twi'lek took a step back, analysed this new challenge and cracked his knuckles in anticipation,

"_This shouldn't be a problem, right? She is tiny, after all."_

Large, blue fingers slipped under a pair of scarred arms, dead weight, draped in sequins, doused in substances the man would rather not question and that's when he lifted.

And lifted.

_And lifted.  
_

_And…Nothing.  
_

_…Frack._

The blonde's glassy blue eyes met his whilst a giggle escaped the lop-sided smile not far below them. Her body had been moved backwards, now sitting precariously at the end of the stool. The rest of her weight found itself supported by that of the landlord, her arms draped around his, her back hanging over the gap between him and her metal perch.

He tugged again, but to no avail. The only pay-off was more giggling, more bush-baby stares and fluttered lashes. And that's when he noticed the reason for his struggle, the thing that was keeping him from locking up the door and retiring to bed. Despite apparently being too drunk to do…well…anything really Aquila's sturdy calves had wrapped themselves around the smooth metal support of the stool, heels locked one on top of the other.

_"I…Is she mocking me?"_

He wouldn't usually let this sort of thing get to him, as the owner of a cantina the rotund blue man had dealt with more than his fair share of problem patrons, but this was different. In his fatigued state he found himself genuinely insulted by the game he had been dragged into.

Determination kicked in. Muscles twitched and laughter filled the empty cantina.

Five-or-so minutes passed.

Exhaustion set in, determination lapsed, muscles ached and with a great wallop the wicked giggle that had been haunting the cantina was replaced with expletives that made even the landlord flush. A large blue body lurched backwards, the smaller one he had been holding made firm contact wit the fifthly cantina floor. Not that Aquila seemed to mind, far from it.

Laughter filled the room once more as the blonde rolled around, reveling in this new development and that's when he saw it: his solution, his ticket to freedom (well his ticket to bed, at least.) Aquila's aimless writhing saw the pocket of her sparkling jacket empty it's contents along-side her on the floor, a small holocommunicator escaping along side a lightsaber. Fat fingers snatched up the communicator and fumbled against the controls in a hapless manner, the landlord hated holotechnology, but at this point in time he was happy to make an exception.

His desperate button pressing eventually gave way to a dialing tone and a static crackle. A small blue image of the randomly selected contact hovered above his hand, tired yellow eyes made contact with those of the scruffy young man in the hologram and, with an exasperated sigh and defeated twitch of his lekku, the landlord made his plea:

**"_Please, sir, come and retrieve your Jedi."_**


	5. Bad Blood

Lies consume you  
And hold you together  
They stitch and bind  
Your very soul  
I often wonder  
If you'll fall apart at the seams


	6. Her Body was a Statue

Her body was not a temple, it was a statue.

A statue withered by the passing of time, a statue open to all of the world's elements.

A statue from which considerable parts had crumbled and found themselves partially replaced to the best of nature's abilities.

A statue who's smooth marble curves were etched and scratched,

With the names of lovers and the worn traces of fingerprints left by many an infatuated viewer.

With mementos of her past, her present and future.

A road-map of her life.

A storybook carved into flesh and bone and worn for the world to see.

Her body was not a temple, it was a statue.

A statue that stood as a celebration of strength.

A statue that stood as a celebration of weakness.

A statue that stood as a celebration of what it is to be alive.


End file.
